


Girl Friday

by Purna



Category: Donald Strachey - Stevenson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purna/pseuds/Purna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First dates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Friday

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on the nick_n_nora LJ comm and uses movie canon.

It was still wet and nearly black in the dim light of the hallway outside Donald's office, a gory handprint on the wall, like something out of a horror movie. Blood, Timmy knew all too well, thanks to Donald, and he felt his stomach drop to his toes.

"Donald!" He couldn't help the trace of panic in his voice, or stop himself from charging frantically into the office. The desks were deserted, but voices from Donald's shoebox of a washroom drew him closer. "Donald?" he said cautiously, with no result.

"Ow, ow, ow. Oh, my God, this really hurts."

Timmy thought it sounded a bit like Donald's new secretary. It was tough to judge since it was the stuffed-up, muffled tones of someone with a severe head cold. Or a bloody nose, Timmy decided, too attuned to the aggrieved-sounding results of that particular injury for his own peace of mind.

"He broke my nose," the voice said, confirming one of Tim's hypotheses.

"It's not broken, you big baby." Donald's mother hen act was reserved for Timmy alone, apparently, and he couldn't help nodding in guilty satisfaction. "Just keep pinching it, Kenny. It'll stop eventually," Donald added. "Hey, honey."

The last was said to Timmy as Donald poked his head out of the washroom, his face lighting up with that little boy grin of his. It never failed to make Timmy go weak in the knees and leave him with gooey Peter Gabriel lyrics running through his head, a reaction that was the last deep, dark secret he still kept from Donald. And yes, the eighties had made up his formative years, so it wasn't like he could help it.

Donald's grin always made Tim feel like they were sharing a private joke, just the two of them against the world. He smiled back.

Their eyes locked for a long stretch of wordless communication--_I was worried_ and _No need_ and _I'll always worry_ and _I know_. More intimate than confession, and Timmy had stopped going a long time ago anyway, and that instant connection was pretty much the best thing about being married, in his opinion.

He'd tried to explain it to Donald once, but he'd left his partner frowning and maybe just a little miffed about Timmy's priorities. That night Donald had ensured that the sex was truly explosive, as if to counter Timmy's point, and it was one debate Timmy was happy to concede.

The moment was broken by Kenny's mournful wail. "Look at this." He was staring at his reflection in horror. "But I have a date tonight."

Donald quirked his lips at Timmy one last time--_duty calls_\--and turned back to Kenny. "Pinch, Kenny. I told you to pinch. And I warned you about letting people know you work for me."

"As difficult as it is to believe," Timmy said, coming up behind them to smirk at Donald in the mirror. "Your employer's charms are not universally acknowledged."

"Hey, now," Donald said, hands raised in protest.

Timmy gave Donald's ass a reassuring pat. "I don't include myself in that number, obviously. I find your charms irresistible."

Kenny let out a disgusted snort, wincing as he made the sound. Without looking away from Tim's eyes in the mirror, Donald reached over to push Kenny's hand back towards his nose. "Pinch, I said."

"I'll get the cold pack," Timmy said and headed over to the mini fridge in the corner.

"It's stopped bleeding." Kenny frowned at his image in the mirror, gesturing at his nose. "But I look like the poster boy for domestic violence or something. What am I going to tell my date?"

"Tell him you walked into a door." Timmy handed over the cold pack and shrugged at Kenny's expression. "That's what Donald told me on our first date. I didn't believe a word of it. The waiter at _La Serre_ kept staring, and Donald told _him_ to think twice before getting a nose job."

Kenny grumbled a little more about his date, and then headed down to his car.

Once they were alone in the office, Tim perched himself on Donald's desk, which was in a rare state of order, Kenny's influence, no doubt.

Donald wandered over, wiping his hands on a paper towel, and cocked his head. "You really remembered all that stuff about our first date?" he said, sounding more surprised than anything.

"Yes, of course." Timmy tried not to sound defensive. He wasn't the only romantic in the relationship; it was Donald who brought home flowers all the time, for no particular occasion.

Donald said nothing, but one corner of his mouth turned up. He was pleased, Timmy could tell. Donald kept watching him, still silent, his gaze indulgent. When he finally spoke, he sounded a little hesitant. "I warned Kenny about this part of the job. I've kept him here in the office as much as possible."

"I think Kenny can handle himself, Donald," Tim said. "He's not stupid."

Donald looked thoughtful. "Timmy, you ever wish I did something a little...safer? I know my cases haven't exactly been routine lately."

Tim laughed and reached over to hook a finger into Donald's belt, tugging him close. "If you had a safe, normal job, you wouldn't be you, Donald. So, no."

"Yeah?" Donald reached down to squeeze Tim's thigh. Tim let out a wordless, pleased sound of interest.

"Really. And I'll tell you another thing I remember about our first date. When you finally got around to telling me what you did for a living..." Timmy ducked his head, trying not to blush. "I thought it was hot. Really hot."

"Why, Mr. Callahan," Donald said dryly. "I think it's time you took me home, and we can reminisce about our third date."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "We never even made it to the movie, because your car broke down on the way there. We had to walk back to my apartment, and then we...oh. _Oh!_"


End file.
